The Nature of Cruelty (17 page)

I’m so fucking jealous of my sister, my skin crawls with it. She doesn’t realise how lucky she is. I hate that she gets to spend every waking hour with Lana. I hate that she gets to touch her, gets to make her smile, gets to comfort her after I’ve been an arsehole.

I jump up from the grass.

“Where are you off to?” Dean calls after me.

“I have to talk to my sister,” I answer. “Be right back.”

“Oh, in that case tell her I want a blowjob,” he says, giving Liam a high-five.

“You’ve got more chance of giving yourself one,” I bite back.

Sasha and Lana are just walking by the wall surrounding the school when I get close to them. “Tampon! Welcome! Step inside my office,” I say with a flourish.

“Fuck off, you don’t own the school,” Sasha hisses, giving me the finger as she saunters past. Lana’s eyes get all wide before she quickly looks away from me, studying her feet. In this moment I realise how desperately I’ve missed her. I want to pick her up and squeeze her tightly to my chest. Breathe in her scent. Kiss her all over. That would be the normal thing to do to the girl you like. Unfortunately, I’ve never been normal.

She’s so shy, she clearly hasn’t been kissed before in her life, and that pleases me far more than it should. I situate myself in front of her. Some girls have run up to Sasha, asking her about her summer and her new Goth look, so her attention is diverted for the moment.

Lana stops walking and breathes deeply. Her posture is tense but resigned. She’s waiting for me to strike. Like she expects it and is fully prepared to soldier on.

I hate myself for needing this. Why can’t I just tell her I’ve been in love with her for two years? Why do I have to express myself in a way that completely opposes my true feelings? Perhaps I’m just emotionally stunted. A child of divorce, and all that.

“Look at you in your big-girl uniform.” I smirk and tug on her loose sleeve. “It doesn’t even fit you properly.”

She glances up for a second, and I suck in the connection of her eyes on mine. “My mum got me a larger size on purpose,” she practically whispers. “She says I’ll grow into it, and it’ll save us buying a new one next year.”

Her eyes get wide again, like she’s surprised she told me that.

God, her mum’s a fucking bitch. I mean, who does that to their kid? Making them wear an over-sized uniform for a whole year just to save money.

“That’s stingy as fuck,” I say. I didn’t actually mean it in a bad way, I meant it in a sympathetic way. Too bad the sympathy gets lost in translation.

Her throat moves as she swallows and makes to walk past me. I sidestep so that she can’t get by.

“So, you do realise the boys outnumber the girls here practically ten to one.”

“I know that,” she answers quietly.

“Well, are you prepared to give it up? The girl drought means even you’ll probably be getting some attention.”

I give her my best full-wattage grin.

“Give what up?” Her brow furrows in adorable confusion. God, she’s so innocent.

Ever since I lost my virginity last summer, I’ve been seeing girls in a whole new light. They aren’t the unknown anymore. And what I know of them is constantly in my head. I want to do the stuff I know to Lana.

I lean in close so my lips are a whisper away from hers. Her breathing quickens, and her cheeks colour. “Your v-card,” I tell her seductively.

She practically jumps away from me. “I’m fourteen years old,” she says in outrage and fear.

“Age won’t keep you safe from the perverts in this school. You better get ready for a threesome at the very least, an orgy if you’re feeling adventurous.”

It’s official. I’m a bastard.

She narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“You wish I was lying.”

Her face is disbelieving. “This is a school. They don’t have orgies at schools.”

I laugh condescendingly. “Schools are the
main
places they have orgies.”

Pausing, I fold my arms, appraising her with my eyes. “I tell you what — I’ll make sure the guys know you’re off limits. Call it a ‘welcome to school’ gift.”

She stares at me, trying to figure out if I’m playing with her. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well, there would be one or two requirements,” I allow.

“Like what?”

I take two steps forward so I can look down at her. “Like letting me touch you wherever, whenever I want.”

She blinks rapidly and her eyes grow watery, but she’s stubborn. She doesn’t let the tears break free. “I hate you,” she says shakily, seething.

I love you, I think inside my head, but I don’t voice the thought. Instead, I break out the sarcasm. “Of course you do.”

“Lana, you coming?” Sasha calls from where she’s standing with her group of girlfriends.

“Yes,” she answers, relieved for the opportunity to get away from me as she rushes to my sister’s side.

Sasha gives me the evil eye from across the green, knowing I’ve been teasing Lana. I twist up my face comically and walk towards the school building just as the bell rings.

The morning classes and lunchtime pass, and I don’t see Lana again. I’m looking around every corner, trying to spot her, but she’s nowhere. Maybe she’s avoiding me. Fuck it, she has every right to avoid me. I’ve been running high off our little encounter earlier, but still I want more.

At the end of the day I’m standing with a group of my friends at the lockers, while this arsehole called Oisin from fifth year is bragging about how he shagged some blonde girl called Leanne, who apparently every guy at school wants to get with.

I’ve noticed her around, but I don’t see the appeal. She wears so much makeup that there’s always this brown stain on the inside collar of her uniform. I have a curse of noticing small things about people that either entrance or disgust me. Every time Leanne walks by me in the halls, I just fixate on that brown makeup stain. According to Oisin, she’s got a great rack, but all I ever see is the stain.

I don’t think other people are as obsessed with little details like I am. For instance, I know that Lana has exactly twelve tiny freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. I know that her upper lip curves in the most perfect Cupid’s bow I’ve ever seen. I know that she picks at her nails when she’s nervous in groups. I know…shit, I know a lot about her.

And now I’ve finally spotted her.

She’s got her rucksack on her back and she’s walking down the hall in my direction, staring at the floor. I wish she didn’t always look so hunted. More importantly, I wish I didn’t get off on being the hunter.

I nudge Dean, who’s standing beside me.

“What?” he asks, chewing on a massive wad of gum.

“You see that redhead girl?”

“Yup.”

“Trip her when she walks by.”

“Eh, why?”

“Just shut up and do it.”

He looks at me like I’m being weird but gives in anyway. “Okay, then.”

Just like clockwork he trips her when she reaches us, and I step in to save the day. I catch her in my arms before she falls down, my hands holding tightly to her small frame. Her eyes flutter as she looks around, trying to figure out how she tripped. I let my hands travel up her arms to her shoulders and then to her bare neck.

“What – did you trip me, Robert?” she asks in a low voice, still glancing around. She’s so flustered I don’t think she even realises how intimately I’m touching her.

“No, it was one of those pricks,” I answer, gesturing to the guys standing near us. “Hey, how about a kiss for catching you?” I ask her, pushing my luck.

“Let go of me,” she requests calmly, her breathing slow and deep, like she’s trying to keep herself together.

“I thought we had an agreement. I keep the horny teenage boys away from you, and you let me touch you whenever I want.”

“There was no agreement. I never agreed to that,” she sputters, losing some of her calm. I revel in her returned fluster.

I suck in a breath, all slow and sexy, pushing my fingers into the soft skin of her neck. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, you didn’t. My mistake.”

I decide to let her go now. I’ve had my fix, and there’s no point in pushing her too far. That will only see her telling her mum, her mum telling my mum, and me getting grounded.

“My gran says people can only make you feel bad about yourself if you let them. And I’m not letting you, Robert,” she says, holding her chin up high.

Just when I think she can’t get any cuter, she goes and comes out with something like that. As soon as my hands fall from her neck, she scurries away, and I turn to watch her go.

All I can hope for is that one day I’ll be the kind of guy who can make her stay.

Part Three

Cruelty Is the Symptom of a Deeper Cause

Nine

T
his has been the longest week of my life, hands down. Robert’s been sulking ever since I deleted those pictures he took of me. Every time I walk into a room and he’s there, I just want to rush straight back out. He’s hardly said a word to me since our confrontation. My copy of
The Oresteia
that I threw at him is still lying on the grass in the back garden, a silent, unmoved relic of what happened.

For some reason I can’t bring myself to go out and pick it up. I don’t want to remember how it felt when I discovered that Robert is fixated on me in a way that goes far beyond his past bullying. My heart was in flutters, but my stomach was all twists and turns.

I try to make sure Sasha’s with me whenever I’m at home, so at least her chatter can cover up the tension that radiates between me and Robert. I think she’s noticed, but she hasn’t said anything.

It’s Thursday morning now, and I’m getting ready for my final shift of the week at Alistair’s. I don’t have to be there until lunchtime, so I’ve got
This Morning
on the telly as I work through folding my clean laundry.

Right now Molly Willis is on, singing a sexy-sex song that’s probably a bit inappropriate for this time of day. I can’t seem to get away from this pop star. When the song ends and the camera pans back to Phillip Schofield, the presenter has a look on his face like he’s trying to hold in his laughter.

I wish Phillip Schofield was my dad. He seems like he’d be the perfect combination of caring and fun.

When your dad is absent from your life, you tend to have an obsession with imagining what it would be like if random celebrities were your father.

He does a short interview with Molly, asking her if the current rumours about her being pregnant are true. She’s wearing big purple sunglasses, so you can’t really see her face properly.

“Oh, Phillip,” she says, “I think gorging on a roast beef dinner last week was what led to those rumours. Girls do get bloated every once in a while, you know.”

I don’t know what it is about the way she says it, perhaps it’s the set of her mouth, but she seems kind of sad, despite the fact that she’s smiling.

Phillip laughs and ties up the interview, complimenting her on her current number-one single and music video, which has gone viral online. He also tells her that she doesn’t look at all bloated today. Her toned stomach shows just above her black hot pants.

I finish up my laundry folding and go grab my things for work before locking up the house and heading for the Tube station. When I get to the restaurant, it’s a crazy rush. Danni called in sick two hours ago, so we’re short staffed. I barely have time to breathe as I scurry from table to table, taking orders, delivering food, asking if people need anything else, etc.

My waitress uniform is practically sticking to me by the time my shift ends at seven-thirty. It’s kind of unfair of Alistair to have his staff wearing such tight black skirts during the summer heat. Then again, the restaurant is probably too high-end for T-shirts and shorts.

I’m so glad to be finished with work that I practically run out of the place, totally ready for a nice dinner and an early night. It’s only when I get to the Tube station that I realise I walked out of Baccino’s without my handbag. Reaching inside my skirt pocket, I’m relieved to find that I have my oyster card and my mobile phone on me at least. I’m too tired to go back to the restaurant for my bag, so I decide I’ll just leave it there until Monday.

With this all sorted out in my head, I continue on my way to the platform. However, as I’m waiting for the Tube to come, another unfortunate realisation hits me. The restaurant had been so busy that I completely forgot to have my usual four o’clock break when I take my insulin and grab a bite to eat. I mostly only realise this because of the feeling of sickness that hits me.

Normally I’d find a bathroom somewhere to take my medicine, but since the travel kit I brought with me today is sitting in the handbag I forgot back at the restaurant, that option is out. The feeling of illness comes upon me so quickly that I don’t have the energy to go back for it, but since I have my main supply at home, I decide to keep going and get the Tube. I can hold out for an hour – I hope.

The rumbling of the train approaching only manages to increase my anxiety. A second later someone steps up close beside me. Turning my head, I see it’s Robert, making his way home from work the same as me.

“Lana,” he says in a low voice, nodding his head.

The relief of seeing him hits me fast, and I momentarily forget all about us not talking. “Oh, Robert, thank God,” I breathe, throwing my arms around him.

His face moves in my hair, and I feel him inhale sharply. “Uh, not that I’m complaining or anything, but are you okay?” he asks gently, taken by surprise by my hug.

I pull away. “Yes, no, I mean, I’m just glad to see you.”

An expression of longing shows on his face for only a moment before he wipes it clear. He glances at me now and says, “You don’t look so good.”

He presses his hand to my lower back as we step onto the carriage.

There aren’t any seats left, barely even enough room to stand, so I lean my shoulder against Robert’s chest as he holds onto one of the safety bars beside him.

“I’ll be okay once I get home. It was really busy at Baccino’s today, and I forgot to take my insulin. Then I was so tired that I forgot to grab my bag before I left. So now I just really need to get home so that I can take it and get something to eat. Basically, I feel like shit.” My words all tumble out too fast.